Chapter Text
A section of parchment paper, crudely cut on the top and bottom edges, displaying only a paragraph of edited text, reads in a uniform font:
The new -more accurately the now two year old- dragon and human training operation has been making slow progress. The dragons are still reclusive and the language barrier does not go beyond simple messages. As of writing, -~-no major conflicts or fatalities have occured or been reported-~-, but there have been a few complaints sent to counseling from our trainees. Primarily, to summarize, these letters point out the condition of their sleeping quarters and temperature regulation. Captain Dirag’s recommendations are the following.
The paragraph ends just before the zagging of the sheared paper. In the margin right of the crossed text, a handwritten note in ink reads:
An altercation between Fereen Scale and unrelated Groosk Skin, Skin escalated, had left leg crippled.
-=O=- -=O=- -=O=-
In the town where Cermel grew up in, the most perverse fact of life was that of high standards. His city is both the capital and the main port of his kingdom, and despite him not being a noble, all were subjected to rich qualities of life. From clean and available water, consistent electricity use, and even automated machine systems. As Cermel became of an independent age, he found his unique niche he could fill. Expeditionary chronicling, commissioned by his kingdom. ‘To frontiers never touched’ the advertisement posted, ‘registration open'.
Cermel wished again to be in that ignorant bliss, not to be tasked with an endless workload for weeks indefinite. Comfort was a forgotten hope in the air of the sea he was on, and insomnia was the only thing consistent about his sleep...
And this pounding, irregular in tone and tempo, but it wasn’t hurting like a headache. Cermel jolted back to sitting straight in his seat.
“S-sorry! Come in.” Cermel forced the words through his clammy throat while wiping his sweat from his face.
The door creaked open, but as the ship shifted weight, it got jammed for a moment. As amusing as that was, Cermel hardly mustered a smile. Thankfully, coming through was an officer named Kaller, a late twenty something year old and one of the only few people he got along with. Unfortunately, he was carrying wooden placards with papers attached to them.
“Hey, Cermel. Sorry to wake ya, but ahh.. you should open a window. How can you even breathe?” Kaller inquired. He had walked up and placed the items on a clear space of the desk and leaned against a wall.
“I’d rather suffocate in heat than in less heat but with more salt and humidity.” The gripping of sweat all over his body disagreed, though. Glancing over, he caught the time at around 3:28, but that was not representative of the sun ever since departure. Cermel yawned and then groaned. “What’s even the timetable right now?”
“Twenty minutes to dinner. Guess what we’re having.”
“Slop? Same as the whole of last week?” Cermel assumed.
“Fancy slop. From what I've heard, they caught some fish finally.” Kaller said, looking back to the door. “Alright, I'll see you there later then.” He turned and went.
“Yeah, see you soon.” Cermel said last. How fun. Dehydrated vegetables in a bone broth, now with some fish chunks. That can be considered good news at least. All negated by the new work on his desk.
Being the ship’s only typewright meant any request for typed transcription of documentation went right to him, including now the results of some gem transmutation experiments. He got his own little room, barely larger than his desk and twice as long but having his own bed and dresser to do his work. All the privacy he could ask for with none of the rest he needs. So, Cermel wasted no time and began to review the items.
Nothing he had not seen before, but it is about the tenth time getting results from this team. The wooden plates had engraved into them the configuration and procedures taken of machines used to tune a gem’s properties using other gems. The papers clamped below were observations after tuning, as well as comparisons to gems tuned before the voyage. So far, the newly tuned gems are just lower in potency, as expected when tuning on a continually tilting floor. Cermel has assumed for a while that the kingdom hopes for some exotic transformation this far out at sea, yet no luck. No matter what, it was his job to interpret this data into a neatly formatted page that can be filed and recalled later.
He still probably had fifteen minutes before dinner, so he set a paper into the typewriter attached on top of his desk to get some work in. This did not get any less tedious since the last time he typed, and it would take him right up to the start of dinner for just one report. At least, he thought so as it got considerably darker within a few seconds. Cermel looked out of the window above and behind him to see dark gray clouds cloaking the sky.
Noticing that, he got up to go turn on a lantern in the center of his room. Walking to it, the ground juttered and slanted extremely in the direction of the door, making him lose balance. Cermel caught himself as he fell against the wall. The ship has never been this tilted before, nor has had such abrupt motions either, he thought. He heard the turbulence all around the ship, almost concussive in the closed space. The direction of the floor shifted again towards the front of the ship, left relative to his door. Although Cermel had a firm hold onto the framing of his room, resisting that change took all his strength. The room leveled after a few moments and brightened as a gravely sound from below diminished in intensity.
What was that? Perhaps a nearly universal question was also present in Cermel’s mind. His work can wait. He exited his room to go to the deck, joining others who also had the same intention. They quietly argued among themselves as they made their way up through the hallways. Emerging from the doorways near the bridge of the ship, he and the other crew members saw the newly arrived land they had beached on.
In front the ship was a jungle, comprehensive in both height and width. Density too, as Cermel couldn’t see past the first layer of the trees. And they were far taller than any structure he had seen. The tangled mess of flora walled off every path.
While people were situating themselves either with conversing around or reorganizing loose equipment, Cermel went to the side of the deck with a few others to get a better look at the land. The boat had just about wedged itself between two white cliffs, vegetation adorning the tops and getting denser further inland. He couldn't see anymore of the coast beyond the cliff, but it did appear that the ship was almost completely on land looking back. Cermel went to some guy nearby and asked, “Excuse me, d-do you know what happened?”
The man looked back at Cermel. “Not exactly.. I didn’t see it myself, but apparently, a storm rolled in in a blink and up rose this massive wave, nearly turning this vessel over. Just a’ fast as it came, it went, and suddenly we’re running aground. That seems to be what everyone up here then was saying.” He finished and took another look at the people on deck. Most of the crew was above deck now, also trying to find out what happened. A maintenance team started to inspect the front of the ship when Kaller approached Cermel.
“Cermel! Wasn’t that wild!” He said loudly. “Crazy how those atlases can hold against that huge wave. I was getting food when I-” *~HHRRRRNN~~~* The bassy tone emanated from the very back of the ship, drowning out all sound for two whole seconds. When it ended, everyone and everything had stopped talking and it became eerily quiet. The fog horn had sounded short once, meaning the ship had officially docked and that roll call had been called. “That was a bit unnecessary.” Kaller whispered, slightly stunned and cautious to not overpower the silence.
The noise coming from the forest ahead very gradually returned, and so did the volume level in people's voices too. The crew, including Cermel and Kaller, made their way to specific markings on the deck, indicating the spots for roll call of every person, save for head leadership. The two got to their positions that were next to each other. This was one of the reasons how they knew one another; the first roll call had acquainted them. So too was Cermel acquainted with a guy named Hank, one of the physicians aboard and currently not present. That would make sense, mostly likely he was tending to someone hurt by the movement of the ship. Waiting for the last of the crew who hadn't come out after the turbulence, Cermel realized how temperate it had become, from sweltering in his shaded room to feeling cool in direct sunlight. “Is it cooler or no, Kaller?”
“Uhhm, huh, I guess so. And also, I think, we got turned north?” Not that Cermel had any idea of their heading previously, so he trusted Kaller’s intuition. They kept waiting, and Cermel continued to internally deliberate on the situation. There hadn't been warning for land, and surely that ‘storm’ was unnatural, so too was the force on the boat. He would have to remember these inconsistencies for later as the captain showed above in the control floor.
“Attention, attention! Roll call is commencing. Unless physically unable to present due to injury or otherwise exempted, please hold.” His voice was muffled, grainy, but amplified through the pipe speaker. “Cermel Kriecken, please meet with me.”
As expected, he had been called to log important details for roll call. He walked to the side back of the ship, going through the furthest door and up two flights of stairs. The bridge, the highest room in the ship and the one with the most windows, had the most technology out of any part of the ship. The second tier of stairs led directly into the room with two staircases, mirrored both sides in the back. Cermel came up from the right side and saw various things cluttering the floor. Mostly papers, but there were some tools and containers. Built into a protruding wall, a larger typewriter modified to continually use a massive roll of paper stood undamaged, and Cermel went to it.
The captain, and his co-pilot, heard his footsteps but only responded by speaking. “Good, you’re here. Get that thing set and then we’ll start.” Captain Dirag Danboe, a King’s Mariner, had been selected to head this expedition due to his excellence in crew management and a high noble familial status. In the years past between then and this maiden voyage, he had personally overseen the construction of this ship, named The Foresight. He wanted to have all the most current technologies, even prototypes, such as a steam engine for propulsion but upscaled to handle the size of the boat. Most importantly, two man sized gems set within the core of the ship attuned to orientate rotationally perpendicular to gravity. Such massive gems are exceptionally rare but are the main enabler to the ease of the expedition. Aside from that, information and documentation was the primary objective. Cermel knew these facts and more well, being the one to collectivize it into the typewriter in front of him on his first day. That was some time ago now, and the most recent inputs were simple lines of headings, speeds, and the times associated with it, along with a fair bit more written notes with more detail. Those were from the captain as he can’t and won’t use the keys.
“Are you ready?” The captain asked, keeping his sight on the deck.
“Yes.”
“Right, the immediate headcount outside is twenty-seven. There are five others elsewhere; two with major injuries in the doctor’s room and three tending to them, and the three of us. One is missing…” He looked down at his console to see his guide. “Balmer Utarre. As a part of maintenance, he would be on deck most of the time.” The captain stood to use the speaker. “Has anyone seen Balmer, Balmer Utarre?” He looked over at the crew, waiting for any response. After a moment, he sat down, saying, “No… We’ll deal with that later. Cermel, get everything so far?”
“Yes.” Cermel had kept pace with the relevant details.
“Alright.” He stood up again and put his face to the mouthpiece. “Listen up for your new directives. All maintenance persons are to inspect the exterior of the hull and the engine A-S-A-P. Rank two officers, search the whole ship for Balmer. Also, scribes, follow the maintenance groups and log their activities. Everyone else, resume with your jobs and pick up loose materials, if you find some. Dinner will be in thirty minutes.” Instead of sitting, the captain walked over to Cermel. He came right next of him.
“Let's see.. *tisk* yeah, that is acceptable.” The captain observed the text.
“Um, Sir?” Cermel took the opportunity to ask the captain some questions. “Do you mind telling me what happened with the uhh.. the boat veering? And, running aground?”
The captain raised his hand to his head and began rubbing it, roughing up his already messy grey hair below his hat. “I… really can’t say for certain, boy. I swear the seas were empty and stable and the sky clear, I turn my back one moment and then we’re under a shroud of shadow.” He shakes his face a little and motions with his hand. “This wave twice as high and nearly several lengths of my ship rises port side and knocks into it. I barely don’t tumble holding my seat, but I didn’t see us turn, and most certainly did not see land anywhere before then. I want to say we got lucky, landing in between these rocks. The Foresight is tough, but not surviving more than full speed into the face of a cliff, let alone the crew.” He finished as he looked through a window adjacent to the typewriter.
Cermel heard the answer, though it hadn’t been much more fulfilling than before. What an anomaly. Furthermore, Cermel became extra still with how much the captain spoke emotionally.
“Anyways, we made it. This is where the real challenge lay. Takle!” The captain went back to the front, avoiding stepping on the things on the ground, over to his co-pilot. “Prepare the new schedule and have it distributed.” He looked at Cermel one last time. “Boy, go back on to your duties and prepare for dinner soon, I suppose.”
With that, Cermel silently got up and left down through the stairs from where he came.
•×|{∆}|ו •×|{∆}|ו •×|{∆}|ו
Five Days Later
Cermel’s skin was sensitive waking up. He turned over and stretched most of his body with his eyes still closed. He had over him a thick bed sheet, something he gained with how cold the nights were now. And, finally, he got a full, comfortable sleep. Without the ship moving, he could be still and it had been very quiet as the ship’s engine turned off. At the same time, the last few days have been very light on work, so Cermel got to sleep at regular times. But, he had to wake up, if just to not miss breakfast.
He opened his eyes and propped himself up, going to sit off the side of his bed. The morning light turned his room dim and orange, perfect for his eyes to adjust to. He breathed deeply and exhaled just the same. Then, standing up, he made his bed and folded it up into the wall. The right side of his room contained all the things that made a living space, all built into the wall. A dresser, plenty of storage, and even a small sink with a mirror. Usually, that’s where he would go first to shave, but he wanted to grow his facial hair now that it wasn’t sweltering. Instead, he only washed up before starting to get dressed. He only slept in his under-clothes, so he put on a shirt, pants, shoes, his vest, and a coat. The temperate air was still nice and cool in the morning, that being 7:26 in the morning looking at his recently adjusted clock, and he allowed himself to wear the extra layer. After he finished dressing, he made his way out into the hallway.
The lights flickered perceivably, an effect of being powered by a smaller secondary generator. No need to use the primary if they couldn’t move, it would only waste fuel. Despite that annoyance, Cermel navigated the halls well enough, passing by a couple officers and other crew to get to a restroom. He got to one not in use and entered it, grateful he did not have to wait exceptionally long for others first.
*Knock-knock-knock* “Hurry up!” said a voice from behind the door. He was not so lucky.
“Two minutes, just got in.” Cermel answered. He relieved himself and then washed his hands, being quick. He left and saw an additional person behind the presumably original guy. It was then only a short distance straight to the eating area.
Arriving there, the room was considerably warmer than anywhere else had been today. It also smelled good, like sweet meat and baking dough. That made Cermel feel hungry, not only because he was hungry but the food smelled well done. He looked to see that trays hadn’t been made yet and so went to an empty table near the wall. He would wait for Kaller and Hank to start eating, looking at his surroundings while he waited.
From the kitchen came appealing scents and sounds. Cermel heard crackling grease and shuffling of metalware. The large stove glowed softly as baked fineries were taken in and out. The cooks worked diligently and professionally, swift and talented as most noble of the chefs. Cermel focused on elsewhere. There were several people eating at other tables, most talking to each other and enjoying the food. The lights weren’t flickering as dramatically here, but it also helped that the thin windows lining the top of the wall above him brought in persistent sunlight. It nicely complimented the moderate decoration, simple things that looked somewhat pricey, hung on the painted metal surfaces. The room is pristine and clean, a consistent trend with the whole interior of the ship. Waiting quickly became unfavorable, but at that moment, Cermel's friends entered. They went to get their trays and his, coming in from the opposite side of the room where he came in, talking the whole time.
“-because I said before, more is not better. That is why I haven't done it.” Hank said.
“But, how sure are you? You gave that stuff to my arm before and it worked just fine for that.”
“A scratch compared to the brutalized flesh? Trust me, it doesn't work like that.”
The two approached Cermel and sat down. Kaller said, “Hm, alright then. Good morning Cermel, good to see you fully awake.”
“Yes, good morning to the both of you.” Cermel replied, taking his tray from them. “Interesting conversation, what were you guys talking about?” Cermel began to eat now, grabbing his bread roll.
Hank responded first. “Kaller and I discussed Freid's injury, his crushed leg. He recommended an excess of medicinal salve used for healing cuts.” He looked toward Kaller saying that.
“Which was just that, a recommendation.” Kaller retorted, digging into his meat strips. Cermel appreciated this banter, rare and sparse as it was.
“No harm done right, no need to worry about it.” Cermel said. He just wanted to eat but now talk about something productive. “Hey! Kaller, Hank, ready for the trek into the jungle today?”
“Ummm. Like, ready as in ‘energetic’ or like packed and set to leave?” Kaller said slowly. Hank imitated similarly.
“Hmm, well, I still need to pack my things, and bind my equipment up after sterilizing it.” Hank ate his mashed potatoes. “*Sigh* This nice food indicates today really is that day. I’m envious of the people who will stay here. But, you know, someone has to treat wounds out there.” He warned.
Then let’s appreciate this grace period while we’re in it.
They spent a few more minutes eating and talking, but eventually finished, returning their trays and separating. Cermel went back to his room where he needed to pack up too. He and fourteen other people, including Captain Dirag, would venture into the jungle for at most two weeks looking for a habitable area to settle in. The purpose being that since the ship is beached, hunting and refining timber is essential in the time that it will take to return the ship back to the water. Otherwise, full use of the fishing nets would easily restock all the meat we would need and would not need the wood.
Eventually, Cermel had packed all the necessities as devised by the crew’s wilderness expert. He explained the day before that minimal clothing, insect repellent creams, and our bedrolls should be gathered personally. Among that, the specialists going will take their equipment, and we all will receive our own package of rations and water, as well as a small knife, before we go. No such concrete plans exist for this situation, but Cermel did agree to it. That being said, he can hope for the best. Cermel threw over the straps of his bag over his back and looked in the mirror one last time.
A young man, lean in build and brown of hair, budding a beard around a stout face, eyes inset to insomnia distracting from his unkempt appearance, unevenly paste-coated pale skin, stood hunched with confidence.
-:-:-